a pixar princess

Much has been made of the fact that Merida, the heroine of the new Pixar film Brave, is a girl, the first female protagonist in Pixar's history of 17 years and 13 animated films. Well, they've come a long way baby — sorta. Merida is a feisty gal, and a great hero for kids, girls and boys alike, to root for. But she is also a princess. In American animated films it appears that the only females worth doing stories about are princesses. The great Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki's latest film, The Secret World of Arrietty also featured a feisty girl who can take charge and go on adventures. She was not only not a princess, but she was barely five inches tall.

This is not to say that Brave doesn't have its charms. Merida (Kelly Macdonald) may be a princess, but she isn't into doing all the usual princessy-stuff like learning to speak sweetly and politely, sew and play the harp, etc., etc. She loves to ride her horse Angus and especially to shoot her bow and arrows. But she is no Katniss Everdeen — she doesn't bring game home to her father the king's table, but rather seems to like to shoot her bow for accuracy, hoping for a Highlands archery competition. She gets her chance when her mother (Emma Thompson), fond of saying things like "A lady does not place her weapon on the table," tries to marry her off to the son of one of three local clans, and in the competition for her hand Merida competes herself, and of course wins. All of this is good stuff, and a nice twist on the traditional boy must impress girl, prince must win princess stuff. Brave is a girl power movie, with most of the males (save Angus) extremely unimpressive. Billy Connolly manages to make an impact as the King, but through humor, not prowess.

The real star of Brave is Merida's unruly, yet gorgeous mane of hair, which rivals Rapunzel's in its impressiveness. The film is simply wonderful to look at, especially the background and treatments of surfaces, like the hair on a horse or the weave of a tartan's plaid. The facial features of the characters are a little more doll-like, and they still have that "Pixar style" that will be familiar to anyone who has seen Toy Story, The Incredibles, Ratatouille or Up. It will be a real stride forward when the Pixar animation team feel they can inject as much individuality to their human characters as they lavish on hair, fabric and grass.

As a fan of fairy tales I love the many classic stories that have featured princesses, and see nothing wrong if my daughter (or any of her male friends) also familiarize themselves with them as they grow up. But fairy tales were mostly jotted down in a pre-democracy world. The goal of most storybook princesses is to find a prince. Many modern girls and women still equate such an aim with the only truly possible happily ever after. The marketing power and influence of Disney and its princess line is undeniable, but as we construct new stories, do we really need to continue to create new princesses? Merida's refreshing tomboyishness aside, Brave's female characters are mythic stereotypes — maiden (Merida), mother (the Queen) and crone (a witch, voiced by Julie Walters). The only other noticeable female in the movie is a (quite) buxom and rotund servant in the castle, whose main reason to be around is so that her cleavage can be used to comic effect.

The tagline of the movie, spoken by Merida, is "If you had a chance to change your fate, would you?" But does Brave take us beyond those three archetypal women, and does Merida really change her fate? Even after some magical (and quite amusing) transformation involving bears, not really. Merida and her mother, both stubborn types, agree to give each other a little more slack, and Merida can push off her wedding, at least for now. Brave ends up not being about Merida's independence at all, but more a story about a teen and her mom learning to appreciate and understand each other better. That's not a bad thing, but it's hardly the female empowerment story that many might have been expecting and hoping for.

the apple needs to fall far from the tree

Helen: I can't believe you don't want to go to your own son's graduation.
Bob: It's not a graduation. He is moving from the 4th grade to the 5th grade.
Helen: It's a ceremony!
Bob: It's psychotic! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity, but if someone is genuinely exceptional...

Overachiever parents. What's with that? I swear, if I hear one more mom or dad say "Good job!" because their little angel has taken a step, slid down a slide, managed to get most of it in the toilet, etc., etc., I'm going to scream. Being a kid is not a job, and being a parent shouldn't automatically embrace a sports mentality. But it seems to, these days. How far away is this sort of praise from Jeter slapping A-Rod on the butt or giving him a high-five after he drives in a homer? Not far. That is appropriate behavior at Yankee Stadium. At the public restroom in Target, not so much.

Why should everything a kid does be congratulated? Simple day-to-day tasks that we all have to master in our formative years are being rewarded, illustrated in the fantastic scene (dialogue above) from The Incredibles, where the "super" dad sums it up.

Of course all parents want to cheer their kids on. But the pushy stage-mother is just a prescription for heavy-duty psych bills in your child's future. Let's face it, they're going to have plenty to resent you for anyway, but did the fact that you were so busy ferrying them to soccer practice and ballet class and violin lessons and god-knows-what-else really benefit them in the long run? What about just letting them have a childhood, where they play and have fun?

How much of this over-booking is the desire to expose your kids to all the great stuff that's out there or simply mimicking our own crazy schedules? Or trying to live out your 'deprived" childhood through your kid?

It's a precarious balance. Hopefully the kids won't suffer for it. Because we don't really need any more Mileys/Britneys/Lindseys.

And if everything a kid does is so darn good, how do we gauge real excellence?

Dash: You always say 'Do your best', but you don't really mean it. Why can't I do the best that I can do?
Helen: Right now, honey, the world just wants us to fit in, and to fit in, we gotta be like everyone else.
Dash: But Dad always said our powers were nothing to be ashamed of, our powers made us special.
Helen: Everyone's special, Dash.
Dash: [muttering] Which is another way of saying no one is.